


Shades of Yellow

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22724416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Geralt had accepted that the world would always be in black and white for him. He didn’t mind it, even. What were colors, really? He didn’t need them to hunt monsters or count coins or eat meat. If anything, he assumed the damned things were probably pretty distracting. Anyway, who would want to be tied to him, a Witcher? — or; au where you don’t see color until your meet your soulmate
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 15
Kudos: 1040





	Shades of Yellow

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to geraskier week!!!!  
> day 1 -- soulmates
> 
> twitter: queermight  
> tumblr: korrmin

Geralt had accepted that the world would always be in black and white for him. He didn’t mind it, even. What were colors, _really_? He didn’t need them to hunt monsters or count coins or eat meat. If anything, he assumed the damned things were probably pretty distracting.

Anyway, who would want to be tied to _him_ , a Witcher?

Geralt was perfectly happy - okay, that was pushing it, he was _content_ \- to just do his usual things. He traveled from town to city to town, hunted monsters for money. His only companion, the only companion he _needed_ , was Roach.

Sometimes he would be weak and sleep with a man or a woman but it was only for a night and he always left without saying goodbye after waking up to a black and white room.

He pretended not to be disappointed. He _forced_ himself not to be disappointed.

This was good. This was for the best. No one deserved him as a soulmate, not even the worst of humanity.

-

Geralt was sitting in a tavern, nursing some ale, when he heard it. The bard that’d been playing stopped suddenly and started cursing, loudly, as patrons threw food at him and booed, obviously unimpressed with his performance. The bard was a thin man with floppy hair. Nothing special.

He snorted quietly and took another drink, leaning back. He forgot all about it as the patrons settled down again until suddenly he blinked, once, and he was blinded by–

 _Color_ , all around him. The table was a muted dark brown, the ale an unappealing shade of yellow.

His heart stopped in his chest.

Geralt looked up sharply. The bard was approaching him, holding a beer, a perplexed expression on his face. _No_ , he thought, as he stood up, knocking his chair.

The bard paused a few feet away. Geralt took the opportunity to grab his things and run for the door.

-

Geralt went back to the inn and packed up his things. If his hands were shaking, well, he chalked it up to being cold ( _even though Witchers have higher natural body tem–_ he cut his own train of thought off, firm).

He finished and threw his bag over his shoulder, scrubbing a hand down his face.

He was doing the right thing, he knew that. He didn’t even know the bard’s name yet but he had no doubt in his mind he deserved better. A proper family, a happy, peaceful life on a farm or at least something equally as mundane.

Turning on his heels, he walked to the door and opened it.

Just to come face-to-face with the bard from earlier. He was at a true loss for words. Colors blinded him; the bard’s brown hair, his bright, shining blue eyes, the red lapel of his shirt.

“Um,” the bard said, looking unsure. “I’m, uh, okay, I kind of followed you, which is like–not okay, but–”

Geralt closed - or more, accurately _slammed_ \- the door.

“Wow,” he heard, muffled by the door, “Real mature.”

Geralt sighed heavily and leaned against the door. “Go away,” he said, nearly growling. He blinked a few times but the colors stayed, constant. “You’ll thank me later.”

“I don’t think you get to make that decision for me, soulmate,” was his reply. “Open the door.”

Geralt growled again, low in his throat. “Do you know what I am?” he asked. The bard was silent. _Good_. He opened the door.

The bard’s eyes flickered to his swords and then to his eyes. “Wow,” he breathed. “I’ve–your eyes are–”

“Disgusting,” he finished for him without even flinching. He hadn’t even realized his eyes were that different until a few folks, with soulmates evidently, pointed them out as an odd color. _Inhuman_ , they’d called it, as was everything about him.

The bard smiled, slow and big. “I was going to say beautiful,” he said, and his voice was painfully soft.

Geralt’s hand twitched against the door frame. “Go,” he said, nodding curtly down the hall. “I’m not doing this–” _to you,_ his brain finished silently. He closed the door without waiting for a reply and leaned against it again, waiting.

He waited and waited until finally he heard soft footsteps and the colors drained from the room.

 _Good_ , he thought even as his stomach lurched painfully.

-

Geralt left the inn and walked around back, collecting Roach and untying her. “Time to go,” he said gruffly and she neighed, nudging him.

He knew she was a dark color, that much was obvious, but he wondered what–

“ _No_ ,” he growled under his breath, shaking his head. He was not getting caught up in this. He knew better. He swung a leg over Roach after putting his things in the knapsack on her side and pulled on her reins. “Come on.”

-

Geralt traveled for a few hours, silent. He looked up at the sky, down the cliff of the mountain. As much as he fought it, and he _did_ , he couldn’t help wondering how different the world would look with color. His nose twitched and he sighed, looking away.

Roach stopped suddenly and he lurched forward a bit, steadying himself.

“What is it?” he asked gruffly. He didn’t see anything. “Roach, come on–” he tugged on her reins.

She was still as a board, breathing out through her nose, _hard_. Geralt frowned and blinked and suddenly everything was in color again. He cursed.

“Show yourself,” he said to the empty road.

Sure enough the bard stepped out from between a few trees, grimacing. “I got too close,” he said. It wasn’t a question. He shuffled closer. “I know you probably think I’m a stalker right now, what with the following you thing - _twice_ \- but I swear–”

Geralt frowned, narrowed his eyes. “Shut up,” he growled. “Why are you here?”

The bard pressed his lips together, tight. “You really think I’d just let you go?” he asked, unimpressed. “I–I have spent my whole life wishing to see–” he gestured around “– _this_.”

Geralt sighed deeply. “Do you know what I am?” he asked again.

The bard stepped closer. He held his head high and his blue eyes glinted with a challenge. “You’re a Witcher,” he said, perfectly even. “I know that, and–”

“And _what?_ ” he interrupted sharply. “You want to drop everything and join me on my travels, be a happy little couple?” Geralt scoffed, almost a laugh. “Be realistic,” he said, looking away. “Sorry Destiny fucked you over like the rest of us, but–”

“No,” the bard said.

Geralt looked at him again, raising an eyebrow. “ _No?_ ” he parroted.

“I don’t expect anything from you,” he said, firm, “but yes, I do wish to travel together.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes, slow. “Why?”

“Because–” he replied, stepping closer. Roach turned toward him and he reached a hesitant hand out. She sniffed it, once, before she stretched out and knocked her head against his chest. He smiled briefly, stumbling back a few steps before he caught himself. “Because,” he repeated, clearing his throat and adjusting his shirt, “It’s what I want, and isn’t that enough?”

Geralt snorted again. “ _Enthralling_ ,” he said as he climbed down from Roach. “But it’s not safe and–”

He moved like a flash of lightning and before Geralt knew it the bard had a dagger pressed against the skin of his neck. He smiled brightly. “Sorry,” he said, tilting his head. “What were you saying?”

One corner of Geralt’s mouth quirked up in amusement. “Fair point,” he drawled. “But–”

“Nope,” he interrupted cheerily. “As endearing as your whole _brooding_ thing is, I’m not impressed.”

The other corner of Geralt’s mouth quirked up. “Do you really think talking to a Witcher like that is smart?” he asked, genuinely curious and perhaps, silently, awed by the bard’s bravery.

There was a thin line between stupidity and bravery.

“Why?” he replied, smiling. “Are you going to hurt me?” Geralt frowned, and he winked, taking his dagger away from his neck. He leaned down and tucked it back in his boot, hidden from sight. “That’s what I thought.”

Geralt sighed, deep, and rubbed at his temples. “You’re going to regret this.”

“Why?” he asked. “Because you’re a Witcher?”

Geralt shrugged, a sharp jerky movement.

“Please,” he said, waving his hand back and forth in the air. “You’re not _that_ scary.”

Geralt let out a sudden laugh that surprised even himself. He quickly cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “You don’t even know my name,” he pointed out.

“Well,” Jaskier said with a toothy grin. “That’s an easy fix. I’m Jaskier, and you are?”

Geralt stared at him for a long, silent moment before he finally sighed, shoulders slumping. “Geralt of Rivia,” he said tersely.

Jaskier beamed and reached out, grabbing one of Geralt’s hands and shaking it, once.

Geralt felt a rush of _something_ at the direct skin contact, toes curling. He wondered briefly if Jaskier felt it, too. If he did, he was good at hiding it.

“I have no exceptions,” he assured him.

Geralt snorted, not quite believing him. “Right.”

-

Twenty, thirty minutes later Geralt was back on Roach with Jaskier sitting behind him, arms wrapped firmly around his waist. Geralt sighed, mostly to himself, and wondered how the fuck he’d gotten to this point.

Jaskier was humming something under his breath; Geralt made out bits and pieces, lines about the stunning blue of the sky, the peaceful green of the grass and the trees.

The beauty of a pair of striking yellow eyes.

Geralt swallowed thickly and focused on the path. The dirt was a dull brown. There should’ve been nothing special about it but he found himself smiling anyway, just the smallest upward tilt of his lips.

Perhaps a world in color wasn’t such a bad thing.


End file.
